


The Sway of Gold

by Imagined



Category: The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Bilbo Remains In Erebor, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Consort Bilbo Baggins, Established Relationship, Gold Sick Bilbo Baggins, Gold Sickness (Tolkien), M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-05
Updated: 2018-11-05
Packaged: 2019-08-19 09:46:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16532180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Imagined/pseuds/Imagined
Summary: Five years after the reclamation of Erebor, Thorin starts to notice Bilbo is not acting normally. It would look like gold sickness, had Thorin not known his hobbit is immune to that.As it turns out, Bilbo is less immune to the Ring of Power.





	The Sway of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> My first fanfic for the Hobbit fandom! I hope everyone enjoys :)

It’s whispers that Bilbo hears, when the torches in the mountain cast their long shadows and his gaze is drawn to the darkness of silhouettes. It is whispers, soft and almost unheard, but Bilbo has grown very, very used to them. The whispers have haunted him for year upon year now, crawling into his mind, and they are familiar to him as Bag End would be. As familiar as the breeze of the wind and the dew on the grass.

Not that any of those things are part of his everyday life anymore. They have not been part of his life since he decided to stay in Erebor, as Thorin had plead for his continued presence. As Thorin had asked to court him, and Bilbo had agreed with a longing that was more fervent than whispers could ever be.

It has been five years since they reclaimed the Mountain. Erebor thrives under Thorin’s rule, and Bilbo is pleased to know he has done his own fair share in making the cold mountain habitable again for his husband’s people. He loves Thorin, and he’s grown to love the dwarrows and their home; he knows there is beauty in the long halls of Erebor, and while it is no Bag End (nothing can be Bag End, but Bilbo can shut out his homesickness when he remembers where his heart is, now), the Mountain is home.

Yet the whispers that he has heard since the riddles in the dark have been playing more often upon his mind in recent months. Bilbo cares not for gold or gems, but he has grown very fond of the ring in his pocket. It’s not necessarily bad, to hold a special place in your heart for your favourite belongings, and Bilbo doesn’t think much of it. It is a useful habit, he tells himself, to take it with him everywhere. Erebor isn’t the Shire, after all, and he might still land in trouble.

It’s perfectly fine, Bilbo convinces himself, to make sure it’s next to him when he goes to sleep, staring at it while listening to Thorin’s deep breathing. Thorin doesn’t know he has it yet, and he never can. That’s one thing Bilbo knows for sure. No one can ever know he possesses the ring; they would try to steal it from him, and it’s his. Only _his_.

Bilbo’s eyes keep being drawn to the small ring on his nightstand, and a fear starts gnawing in his chest that someone will come in and steal it from him if he falls asleep. With trembling fingers, he grabs the ring again and holds it in his hand. If he holds it, no one will take it. It will stay with him. ‘’My precious,’’ he mutters, tracing the gold band lovingly.

Thorin stirs, beside him. ‘’What?’’ he says, sleepily.

‘’Sleep, Thorin,’’ Bilbo says, his voice soft. Thorin has a long day ahead of him. After a few seconds, Thorin’s calming snoring starts up again. Bilbo clasps the ring tightly and closes his eyes, even as the whispers come rushing in again.

It drowns out any other thought, and he falls asleep dreaming of gold.

~*~

Thorin is not a fool. He can’t afford to be, as a king, even if his kingdom is prospering. There’s always something on the horizon that may decimate his hard-won peace and he is not about to let it. 

He’d never thought the seeds of suspicion would be planted by Bilbo, though. His loving hobbit has never been anything but respectful and understanding, and has worked twice as hard as any other to regain Erebor’s glory, dwarrow or not. It’s only because of Bilbo that there is so much trade and respect between the dwarrows and their new allies, Dale and Mirkwood. Bilbo knows what to say and treats gold like the tool it is, instead of the goal that all dwarrows see it as. With his husband’s help, Thorin had learnt to think of it the same way.

He knows Bilbo loves him. He has never called Thorin ‘precious’, though; they don’t have many nicknames for each other, but the few they do are not even get close to that. He would rather not think on it, yet Thorin cannot stop the doubt that maybe Bilbo was speaking of something else. Shadows have started lingering under Bilbo’s eyes more and more while their burdens eased; he has been shifty, untrusting whereas he used to give no heed to treacherous thoughts. It may be nothing, but Thorin starts feeling uneasy of Bilbo’s new attitude.

For a while, though, Bilbo acts like he always does, and Thorin’s worries ease. That all changes, however, on a cold morning near the end of winter.

~*~

‘’New clothes, yes,’’ Thorin says earnestly, eyes focused on his husband’s smaller figure as Bilbo paces around the room.

‘’And where are my _old ones_?’’ Bilbo says. ‘’Thorin, you cannot just throw my stuff away. Those were my clothes!’’

Thorin crosses his arms, regarding Bilbo carefully. There’s some panic on the hobbit’s face, and he does not know what to do with that fact. ‘’They were old and fit you ill,’’ Thorin notes. ‘’What does it matter, Bilbo? I had these made for you.’’

‘’Yes, thank you so much,’’ Bilbo snaps, and the sarcasm drips of the words like poison. Thorin takes a small step back, as his husband continues. ‘’I had possessions in my pockets, Thorin! How will I ever find them back?’’

Thorin blinks. ‘’Not to worry. I took everything from your pockets and laid it on your desk, in your private rooms.’’

Bilbo scurries past him without a word, entering his own small personal workroom. It is all he had requested of Thorin, once he came to live here: a space of his own to write his books and lay down his feet, and a garden. Thorin does not enter often, but now he trails behind his furious husband, at a loss of how to feel about Bilbo’s behaviour. 

Bilbo wastes no time in searching his desk. He throws down the parchment and his prized maps and books as if they were nothing, and Thorin can only watch as the hobbit practically thrashes his neatly organized desk. He only comes to a stop when he finds a small band of gold, and Bilbo takes it with a sigh of relief. ‘’There it is,’’ he mutters, and Thorin dares take a step forward.

‘’Bilbo?’’ he asks, his voice low. ‘’I am truly sorry for distressing you. Had I known you valued the contents of your pockets so much, I would have consulted you first. That ring – is it an heirloom of your family, of some sorts?’’

Bilbo seems to be shaken back into reality, as he regards Thorin somewhat bewildered. ‘’Oh, Thorin!’’ he cries. ‘’I am so sorry for causing such a fuss. This is – no, it’s not an heirloom. I picked it up during our journey here, and I have grown very fond of it.’’

‘’I was unaware you possessed such a feeling for gold,’’ Thorin tries.

Bilbo’s eyes grow imperceptibly darker but the change is obvious enough to Thorin. ‘’I do not,’’ Bilbo declares, even as he stuffs the small ring into one of his pockets, his hand lingering in it. ‘’I merely did not want to lose it. Oh, I must thank you for the clothes, still! How rude of me.’’

Bilbo comes towards him, a kind smile on his face that Thorin is more familiar with. He stands on his toes to kiss him, and Thorin welcomes him eagerly. ‘’I simply want you to be comfortable here,’’ Thorin says. ‘’You should never want in anything, as my Consort.’’

Bilbo’s smile grows mischievous, and his hand finds it to Thorin’s beard. ‘’I do have some wants, right now,’’ Bilbo tells him, and plants yet another kiss to his mouth.

Thorin forgets about the ring for a little while, but in the evening, he is still uneasy over the memory of Bilbo’s reactions. Bilbo acted quite normally afterwards, but that one moment he had feared his ring lost – there is a familiarity that makes Thorin anxious.

It may very well be nothing, but he does something very unlike himself and writes a personal letter to the wizard about the ring and Bilbo’s behaviour. Better safe than sorry, and nothing is safer than a wizard’s interference. In some cases, at least.

~*~

Bilbo is glad to have left Erebor with his husband, seeing the pale sun in the afternoon. Spring is settling outside the mountain, and he has longed to be out there again ever since the cold winter had struck. He is eager to visit Dale, and see the children climb the walls and play in the puddles of water that the snow has turned into.

It has been a few weeks since Thorin has seen his ring. Bilbo has been on edge ever since, trying to discern if the gold sickness is slipping back to his husband. He’s thought about giving up the ring, but it’s _his_ – he should not have to give up something so precious to him. He could hardly bear its loss. Thorin has not tried to steal it from him, so far, but he has kept it close to him just to be sure. Even now, the ring feels heavy in his pocket while Bilbo accompanies Thorin on a long hike outside. 

Thorin has not mentioned the ring, but Bilbo has felt the weight of his gaze on him, the past few weeks. He just hopes Thorin will not try to take the ring from him, and fall back to his gold sickness. 

‘’Do you miss the Shire?’’ Thorin asks, all of a sudden. It’s not the first time he has asked such a question, but usually there is a hint of distress in it. Now it just feels like curiosity, and Bilbo smiles weakly even as he takes Thorin’s rough hand in his own.

‘’Sometimes,’’ he answers honestly. ‘’The Shire in the spring is truly beautiful. I grew up there, and I will always think of it fondly. However, do not doubt that this is my home now. Erebor is beautiful in other ways, and I would miss it just as much if I were to go back to the Shire. More so, I would miss you above all.’’

Thorin pinches his hand, and he is about to say something as Bilbo trips over a stone and falls face-first into a puddle of water. He is completely drenched in a matter of seconds, and splutters undignified as Thorin helps him up immediately.

‘’You are soaked,’’ his husband mutters, as he inspects Bilbo for injuries before he has even had a chance to say he is fine. ‘’It’s still far too chilly outside for you to be in your wet clothes and the Mountain is still at least an hour’s walk away. Here, you must wear my coat.’’

Thorin takes off his fur coat immediately, and Bilbo shivers. ‘’I think not!’’ he says. ‘’Thorin, I am fine. Have you ever seen me fall ill?’’

‘’No, but I also have not seen you fall in a puddle so far,’’ Thorin answers with some humour. ‘’Is it a crime to make sure you will not get a cold? I prefer my husband healthy and hale, if you do not mind. Take off your wet clothes! No one will see, I promise you.’’

He starts undoing the buttons of Bilbo’s rich blue coat even as he speaks, and Bilbo lets him hoist him out of his wet clothing. It does feel better to be rid of it, and his skin starts tingling with warmth as Thorin drapes his fur over him. It is too large for Bilbo, and he winces at the way it falls on the ground. The King does not seem to care about his clothing becoming dirty with mud.

‘’That is better,’’ Thorin says, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s curls. ‘’A comfortable gentle-hobbit, just as they should be.’’

‘’I’ll be comfortable when I have taken a bath,’’ Bilbo says, and his hand ghosts over his pockets, before he stills. His ring is still in his coat – the same coat that Thorin is carrying, at the moment. He cannot ask back for it without arousing Thorin’s suspicions.

‘’Are you alright, Bilbo?’’ Thorin asks without pause. ‘’You did not injure yourself falling, did you?’’

‘’I am hardly as delicate as you think I am,’’ Bilbo answers without a pause and starts walking again. He desires the presence of his ring and not having it makes him more anxious than he is ready to admit. He will take back his coat as soon as they arrive at the mountain, however, under the guise of washing it. With a plan in mind, he already feels a lot better.

~*~

‘’I will wash the coat,’’ Bilbo announces, as soon as they return to Erebor. Thorin glances at his husband.

‘’We have people for that, Bilbo,’’ he says. ‘’Did you not wish to take a bath? I could join you, perhaps.’’

‘’It’s no bother,’’ Bilbo insists, and stands up on his toes to grab the coat from Thorin’s grip. Thorin lets him, suspicion growing in his mind again. As Bilbo hurries away from his side, tightly holding his wet coat, he cannot help but stare after them.

Dwalin comes near him; Thorin greets him absently, even as his old friend whistles. ‘’Havin’ yourself a domestic?’’ he asks, sympathetic.

‘’I do not believe so,’’ Thorin says, still staring in the direction his husband has disappeared in. ‘’That is the odd thing about it. Bilbo has not been behaving like himself for some time now, and I fear this is one more of those instances.’’

Dwalin is on his guard immediately. Thorin knows he respects Bilbo and that they are closer than one would think on first glance. ‘’What do you think is the matter?’’

Thorin bites his lip. ‘’I am not sure yet, but I intend to find out.’’

~*~

Thorin does something he never thought he would, after that: he spies on Bilbo.

Not just by himself, as his duties demand otherwise, but he informs Nori and Balin, as spymaster and his right hand. They do not question his demands, but they seem doubtful. Thorin understands why better than anyone and he would not have believed himself, had he not seen the change in Bilbo over the last few months. His no-nonsense hobbit is no longer quite himself.

It takes only a few weeks for Nori and Balin to change their minds. Thorin had had some leftover hope that they would quench his fears, but alas, they see the same things he does. ‘’It’s centred about that ring he keeps hidden,’’ Nori decides, as the three of them meet on a very early morning. ‘’I’ve not seen it a lot, only twice now. He only takes it when no one watches, and when he looks at it – well. It does not bode well, is all I’m saying.’’

‘’Why would he hide it?’’ Thorin asks roughly.

Balin sighs. ‘’It’s gold,’’ the older dwarrow states sensibly. ‘’Perhaps he thinks it would drive Thorin mad?’’

‘’I’m around gold all day and my madness has not returned,’’ Thorin answers. ‘’There must be something else to it.’’

‘’Aye,’’ Balin agrees, ‘’but I’ve not seen the lad so obsessed with anything like this before. It’s not gold he craves; he cares not for all other gems I have offered him. It is only this ring that affects his behaviour, and I have no doubts it is the source of Bilbo’s suspicious behaviour.’’

Thorin remains uneasy, and Nori and Balin do not know the answer either. Thorin can hardly rip the ring from his Consort’s hands, after all – he does not know how Bilbo will react. It is a matter that needs to be handled with delicacy, and that is something Thorin is not well versed in.

It changes when the wizard returns to Erebor.

~*~

Gandalf comes to him in the mid-afternoon, clearly having just arrived. He makes his way to the throne room, where Thorin is discussing trade agreements with a convoy sent by Dain. From the look on his face, though, it is very clear that he does not intend to wait until Thorin is finished.

‘’Wizard,’’ Thorin acknowledges, quietly filled with dread, as he leaves the room of disgruntled dwarrows. ‘’I hope you bear glad tidings?’’

‘’I fear not, King under the Mountain,’’ Gandalf answers. ‘’Your letter has filled me with worry, and I have gone riding in answers.’’

‘’Have you found them?’’

Gandalf looks at him sadly before tilting his head. ‘’Perhaps. Only Bilbo can provide the final answer, and let us hope I do not ask him the right question.’’

‘’You speak in riddles, as always,’’ Thorin grumbles. He does not know what the wizard means to say, but from the sounds of it, Gandalf has some suspicions he should hope not to be true. If even a wizard sounds this disturbed, Thorin should definitely be.

Worry gnaws at him.

~*~

Bilbo has to watch as his friends and his husband stand before him, arms crossed and faces grave. ‘’Is there something the matter?’’ he asks. It’s only Dwalin, Balin, Nori and Thorin standing there, but from their faces he’d think someone has died. In fact, he’s starting to believe that someone has, in fact. ‘’Is everyone okay?’’

‘’I think, that for the time, I shall ask the questions,’’ a very familiar voice says, and Gandalf enters his private rooms. For the first time since Bilbo has met the wizard, there is no ready smile or sparkles in his eyes.

Bilbo blinks. ‘’Gandalf!’’ he says in surprise. ‘’I did not know you would visit us! Why the long faces? I should make us some tea, and we can all discuss why you are here.’’

‘’Are we sure about this?’’ Dwalin murmurs, and Bilbo can feel his gaze trickle over him. ‘’He seems normal.’’

‘’Bilbo,’’ Thorin starts, ignoring his friend, and the fear in his eyes makes something in Bilbo stop in his tracks. He hasn’t seen Thorin this afraid ever since they did not know yet whether Fíli and Kíli were going to survive their injuries sustained in the Battle of the Five Armies. ‘’Bilbo, we need to talk.’’

‘’Have I done something wrong?’’ he asks, and concern settles heavily in his stomach.

‘’It’s about your ring,’’ his husband continues. Bilbo’s hand wanders into his pocket.

‘’My ring,’’ he repeats faintly. He had hoped Thorin would have forgotten about its existence. ‘’I do not know why a trinket would warrant this reaction.’’ Unless Thorin wanted it for himself, and had decided to bully Bilbo for it. Well, he would never get it, King under the Mountain or not. The ring belongs to Bilbo, and he would not part from it.

‘’Show it to us, Bilbo,’’ Gandalf says, and there is concern etched in his face even as he crouches before Bilbo. Even then, he towers over the hobbit, and it does not do well with him. Bilbo straightens his back, staring them all down.

‘’And why would I?’’ he asks, clutching it tightly with the hand in his pocket. ‘’It is _mine_ , and mine alone. It’s my precious!’’

‘’We are your friends, laddie,’’ Balin pushes. 

‘’Are you?’’ Bilbo hisses, and takes a step back. He does not even stop at the hurt expression on the dwarrows’ faces. ‘’Perhaps you are the thieves, after all. You want it for yourself!’’

‘’Bilbo Baggins,’’ Gandalf roars, and he draws up to his full height. The room darkens, as if a storm is brewing, and the hobbit can barely stop himself from whimpering at the sight of it. ‘’Do not take me for some conjurer of cheap tricks! I am not trying to rob you. I am trying to help you.’’

The display of power leaves Bilbo exhausted, suddenly, as he finds himself with his back against the wall. What is he doing? His own words seem so far away, suddenly, like it was another person talking that was not him. Gandalf has never been anything but a dear friend to him, and to refuse such a small request seems silly. Bilbo breathes heavily, suddenly feeling very cold and small. Gandalf opens his arms, and Bilbo does not think twice about going in for the hug, feeling the tears prickle his eyes.

‘’Gandalf,’’ he cries, and the wizard releases him from his arms, laying both his hands on Bilbo’s shoulders as he warmly gazes upon him. 

‘’For all this time, we have been friends,’’ the wizard murmurs. ‘’Trust me, Bilbo. Let it go.’’

Bilbo wordlessly opens his palm, the ring shining there. ‘’I do not know how,’’ he admits, feeling even smaller than he is as he is surrounded by his friends. ‘’It whispers to me, Gandalf.’’

‘’Your friends are here,’’ Gandalf answers, his voice louder. ‘’Drop it on the floor. See if you can manage that.’’

Bilbo tries to turn his hand so the ring will fall to the floor, but it is as if his hand does not cooperate. Controlling his own limbs has never been harder, and he only just manages. The ring falls to the floor with a loud clatter, and for a second he cannot breathe in his panic. It’s only Thorin’s steady hand that holds him where he is.

Gandalf takes the ring with a poking rod, and throws it into the fire. ‘’No!’’ Bilbo cries, despite himself.

‘’Do not worry,’’ Gandalf says soothingly, as he takes it out of the fire again. ‘’Balin, can you hold out your hand? I promise it will be quite cool to the touch.’’

Balin does as he says, not flinching when the ring touches his hand. ‘’What is it?’’ Balin breathes out.

‘’Does it say anything?’’ Gandalf presses.

‘’There’s nothing on – wait. This is some form of Elvish. I cannot read it.’’

‘’That’s not Elvish,’’ Gandalf says, closing his eyes. ‘’That is the tongue of Mordor. I shall not utter it here, but I had hoped I was wrong. Bilbo, the ring you have been carrying with you for the last couple of years has been steadily poisoning your mind. That, my dear friend, is the Ring of Power, made by Sauron himself.’’

Bilbo would not admit to it later, but he faints.

~*~

‘’How did I let it go this far?’’ Thorin moans. His hobbit is pale, but sleeps restfully beside him. Thorin refuses to leave his side, so the wizard and the three other members from his Company are gathered there as well.

‘’Do not blame yourself,’’ Gandalf says. ‘’He carried this during the journey. I should have sensed its presence. It is a foul thing, made by a dark spirit. It was lost with Isildur, and then found by one of the river-folk. It has poisoned his mind for centuries, giving this creature an unnaturally long life.’’

‘’Gollum,’’ a familiar voice rasps. Thorin turns to see his hobbit sitting up. He’s still pale, but his eyes are determined. ‘’He dropped it in the cave. It turns me invisible, and it was of great help during the Quest. I do not know why I did not see it grew to be more than a trinket, to me. I wanted to tell you, Gandalf, before we entered Mirkwood.’’

‘’Which does you more credit than you think,’’ Gandalf says. ‘’How are you feeling, Bilbo?’’

‘’Like I lost a part of myself,’’ Bilbo says honestly, and Thorin’s heart breaks a little.

Gandalf makes a thoughtful noise. ‘’It will fade in time, my dear hobbit. You are very resilient, indeed, to be able to let the Ring of Power go after having carried it for years. Many others would not be able to do the same – indeed, they would have been mad a long time ago.’’

‘’I _was_ mad,’’ Bilbo argues, and it seems as if he is purposefully avoiding Thorin’s gaze. ‘’Mad with gold sickness. I almost lost my love twice for it.’’

‘’But you have not,’’ Thorin says sharply, taking Bilbo’s hand. ‘’I am here, and sound of mind, and so are you. We are here, Bilbo.’’

‘’I fear the Ring of Power is even more powerful than a dragon’s hoard,’’ Gandalf says apologetically. ‘’Bilbo, the Ring –‘’

‘’Keep it away from me,’’ Bilbo says, and he holds onto Thorin’s hand as if it is a lifeline. Thorin remembers waking up from his madness with the same urgency and determination. The desire to never be in its grasp again.

Gandalf nods. ‘’I will,’’ he says. ‘’It is not your burden to bear, Bilbo Baggins. I hope we have yet enough time to march against the Enemy. We may have found this just in time, and that is owed to you, Thorin Oakenshield and Bilbo Baggins. You may very well have saved Middle-Earth from a terrible war, even if it does not feel like that now.’’

After that, Gandalf takes his leave with a promise to write soon, and the other dwarrows leave the King and his Consort under the Mountain alone.

They do not speak, at first. Thorin just climbs into bed with Bilbo, dignity be damned, and breathes when he smells the hobbit’s familiar earthy odour, untouched by any ring or any sickness. Bilbo starts crying against Thorin’s tunic, eventually, and even then they remain silent until they both fall asleep, uneasy but together.

~*~

‘’I must apologize for my behaviour,’’ Bilbo says in the morrow, still pressed against Thorin’s chest. Thorin does not mind it; to him, that is exactly where his husband belongs.

‘’That is not necessary,’’ Thorin answers. ‘’You were ill. If there is anyone who is unable to fault you for it, it should be me. You never accepted my apologies for when I was under the influence of gold, and I damaged you far more than you me.’’

‘’Then a sorry bunch we are indeed,’’ Bilbo says, but he sounds more like himself. ‘’Thorin. No gold could keep me parted from you. Not while I am sane.’’

‘’I know, my dearest hobbit,’’ Thorin answers fondly, pressing a kiss to Bilbo’s curls. ‘’We are both healed. We are together, and that is what matters.’’

‘’Yes,’’ Bilbo mutters. ‘’Yet I wonder what lies in our future. Gandalf mentioned the possibility of a war, and I admit I do not look forward to that.’’

Neither did Thorin. Nor did he care, not while his hobbit was safe in his arms.

‘’Those are worries for later,’’ he says, finally kissing his husband properly. Bilbo answers eagerly, his hands settling on Thorin’s shoulders. 

Whatever happens is not anything Thorin wants to linger on, now his husband is finally safe from a danger Thorin did not know he was in. Their minds are clear from sickness, and as long as that is true, he is ready to face whatever must come.

Bilbo is in his arms, and nothing in the world is more valuable.

~*~

The whispers still linger in Bilbo’s mind. He is not sure he will ever be rid of the ring, not even while it is so far away. The relief often washes over him when he realizes it is far away, and all of his thoughts are his own.

The whispers still linger, but Thorin is very adept at making them go away, and Bilbo makes use of that.

The ring will not rule over him any longer, he decides. Not while he has a King to rule over his heart.


End file.
